


Florencia

by outofaith



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: F/F, advocating for the fall of capitalism, karl marx please be proud, like it should be, the communist agenda, yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 20:56:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20315890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outofaith/pseuds/outofaith
Summary: The Professor never warned them about her. This woman who called herself Florencia.





	Florencia

The Professor never warned them about her. This woman who called herself Florencia. They were all quite intrigued, apart from Berlim, perhaps. He seemed to be quite used to the brunette’s antics.

For her part, this Florencia character seemed to be full of secrets. With long and curly hair and green eyes so deep one could easily trick themselves into thinking that she held some kind of innocence in her body. What a laugh. No, the angular face with high cheekbones and an upturned nose held a smile that at some point could seem sweet, almost too sweet, but it was actually calculating and cold. She was quite fit, Nairobi guessed, her body such a perfect hourglass there was no way in the world that it was attained without some kind of surgery.

Still, her gaze was piercing and her smile was as sharp as the deep red nails she sported. The Professor said they would need her, need someone that was familiar with the police and the way they acted. They all thought it was a great deal of bullshit, after all, there wasn’t a single soul in that dusty classroom that wasn’t familiar with prision and the way it worked.

The woman, Florencia, contemplated them with a sly smile and the Professor, with a resigned look, explained it to them.

“Florencia was never in prision, she is, however, quite skilled with authorities.”

Still, they weren’t satisfied.

“What, she has some kind of uniform kink? Maybe some handcuffs to go with it?” Tokyo mocked and the green eyed woman smirked. Nairobi still couldn’t place her accent, but she was sure it was from somewhere in Latin America.

“Please darling, a little class.” Florencia drawled.

“Well, what’s she good at, then? ‘Cause you already told us what we’re all here for.” Denver said and his father smacked him across the head.

“You see,” The Professor started with a nudge to his glasses. “Florencia here is the go-to person if you’re looking for any kind of State Secrets.” His tone was impassive but they all could see the excitement that held his eyes. “Or any kind of secret at all. She sells privileged informations to the highest bidder.”

“A traitor, then.” It wasn’t a question, it never was when it came to Tokyo. “Selling informations about her Country to whoever pays the most?”

“I don’t have a Country, love.” Florencia finally spoke up. “And I don’t discriminate, if you need some dirt on the president of the United States or on the prince of Saudi-Arabia and are willing to pay for it, then who am I to deny you?” Nairobi smirked and she could see right through Tokyo’s chuckle that she already liked the woman in clad in the forest green dress.

“Anyway, she also sells war strategies.”

“Seems like quite the curriculum, why isn’t her face in every precint across the world, then?” And that question from Moscow alone managed to make everyone stop and pay close attention.

“That’s a very good question and I’ll tell you the answer.” The Professor said from the back of the classroom where he had wandered to. “Her face should be on Interpol’s most wanted list, then why isn’t it?” When he was met with silence, the Professor allowed himself a smirk, it seemed really out of place on his usually impassive face. “No one wants to arrest the one person who, alone, could bring down entire nations and dinasties. Think about it, would you want to persecute the one woman who has in her possession informations so intimate about the ones who rule the world? About first world Countries funding terrorist groups on enemies’ soil? About politicians fixing elections and governments buying war strategies to attack Countries in the middle east?”

Berlin smirked from his place and Florencia let out a chuckle. “No,” The Professor continued. “They would look for her in ways that don’t exactly fit in their definitions of legal and that would be frowned upon by the regular folk.”

“So what? You’re going to blackmail the police force into letting us escape?” Rio asked with a smile that said that he would much rather be rolling between the sheets with Tokyo.

“Please, darling, I don’t blackmail anyone, I’m not tacky.” Florencia drawled lowly.

“We’ll make sure they know she’s there and we’ll make sure they understand what it means.”

The smiles on their faces then wasn’t ones that held any teasing, it held the knowledge that they had just been introduced to the queen of their chess board.

***

They were drowsy and perhaps a bit tipsy, listening the Professor as he talked about revolutions and resistance and rising against the system and they were all hooked on his every word. The fireplace was crackling on the corner of the dirty room and on the table were bottles of wine and some very old, very expensive whisky.

“The people will always be on our side, as long as we do this right.” The Professor said, not even a little bit tipsy, always in control. “We are not robbing them, we’re simply taking what the government doesn’t want to share with those in need.”

“And if we die in the process of claiming that, then what?” Tokyo asked and Nairobi had to acknowledge that it was a very present thought that bothered her late in the night.

“Then you’ll know you died for something you believed in.”

“Money? I sure believe in money.” Denver laughed but even he seemed uneasy at the cold reality of the consequences.

“Freedom.” Florencia said from her corner near the fireplace, her pale skin and white dress reflecting the amber from the flames and her eyes holding a deep understanding of death. Nairobi didn’t knew how someone who looked not a day past twenty-three could hold a gaze so heavy with sorrow. _“Stamattina mi sono alzato, o bella ciao, bella ciao,”_

Her italian accent was flawless, but then again, wasn’t she always? Nairobi found herself victim of the low tone of her voice, not louder than a murmur. Had she looked to the side, she would find all of her companions looking a little bit lost – all of them, but Berlin and the Professor, the look in their eyes was of resigned understanding.

_“Stamattina mi sono alzato, e ho trovato l'invasor”_ She sang again and, to their surprise, Berlin joined in. _“O partigiano, portami via ché mi sento di morir,”_

And then, the Professor started to mutter the lyrics with the other two, but still, Nairobi couldn’t take her eyes off of the curly-haired woman sat by the fire, staring deep into the tumbler with amber liquid she cradled between her hands.

_“Se io muoio da partigiano, o bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao,”_ Nairobi was sure no one apart from the three singing could understand a word of what was being murmured between them, voices getting stronger by the second, their voices solemn. _“Se io muoio da partigiano tu mi devi seppellir.”_

Usually, by that time, one of them would have cracked a joke or something like that but not that time. No, they were deeply enhanced by the scene that was unfolding. It seemed sacred, this group of misfits and underdogs who were getting drunk in the middle of planning a heist, yet, no one could argue against it.

_“E seppellire suda in montagna, o bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao; e seppellire suda in montagna, sotto l'ombra di un bel fior,”_

_“E le genti che passeranno, o bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao, e le genti che passeranno ti diranno: Che bel fior”_

_“Questo fiore del partigiano, o bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao, questo fiore del partigiano, morto per la libertà”_

They trailed off, their voices disappearing like the words they uttered had never been said.

In that moment, neither Denver could laugh nor Tokyo could snark.

Berlin took a big gulp of his glass and Florencia downed hers in one go, motioning to the Professor to pass her the bottle and topping her glass, her red lips pursed.

“It’s the music of the italian resistance during World War II, protesting against fascism and nazism.” He looked between them. “This is what we’re doing here, rising against an unjust system who didn’t hesitate when it threw us all to the curb and treated us like dirt.”

“And this is the flower of the partisan, dead for our freedom.” Florencia said, her face obscured by the swrils of smoke from her expensive cigarettes. Her face no longer looked smooth and unbothered. It looked troubled and angry and her eyes held so much sorrow that Nairobi felt a pang in her chest.

***  
Later that night, after everyone had retreated to their bedrooms and were behind firmly closed doors, Nairobi decided she couldn’t sleep, not after all the information thrown at her during the day.

She wrapped herself in her robe and made her way to the balcony, the cold floor making her wince and regret not putting on some slippers.

She thought that, at that time, everyone else would already be asleep, but she was wrong. There was a figure with their back turned to her. The long curly hair and the black silk robe strong indicators of who the person was.

Nairobi hesitated. The other woman had been nothing but friendly to her and to everyone else, but Nairobi wasn’t stupid, she knew when someone was dangerous, and that woman that couldn’t be past her early-twenties with her sharp smile and red painted lips was, somehow, more frightening than Oslo and Helsinki with their machine guns.

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” Nairobi jumped at her voice and Florencia turned, in her lips a smile that seemed sad, above all else. “Well, are you just going to stand there or are you joining me for a drink?”

“Thank you.” Nairobi said as she took the glass that she was handed, eyeing the bottle of Licor 43, only three quarters of it left. “Won’t the Professor bitch about us drinking so late?”

The chuckle that she was answered with was just a little bit amused. “Not if he has a brain inside that big head of his.”

“You seem to know him very well.” She tried, toeing the fine line between curiosity and breaking rule number one.

“Yes, well, we share a past, I believe you could say that.” Nairobi’s eyes widened and Florencia laughed as she lit a cigarette, handing the dark haired woman the pack. “Not a romantic past, mind you. Unless you can consider our love for the prospect of the colapse of the system romantic, but I do believe is more on the lines of a shared hatred for the power and those who hold it.”

“Seems really subversive of you.” Nairobi pondered as she took a drag of her cigarette, looking to the side just in time to see the other woman taking a gulp of her drink. “I suppose it fits you, though. The two of you, I could see you planning a big move and orchestrating the fall of the system.”

Florencia laughed at her, a soft sound that made Nairobi’s stomach flutter and she admonished herself, what was she? A teenager all over again? “I suppose I can see that happening. Can you imagine? Being responsible for the colapse of an entire system?”

“I have never seen someone smile so big when thinking about causing the colapse of the world.” Nairobi laughed and Florencia’s smile dimmed.

“It’s a faraway dream, I suppose.”

The lapsed into silence once again, looking over to the miles of threes and the dark sky above them. Smoking cigarette after cigarette and topping their glasses even when they were still half-full.

“I know we’re not supposed to ask,” Nairobi started, encouraged by the strong liquor in her veins. “But how did you end up here? In this life? You seem quite young.”

Florencia looked as if she hadn’t heard her. She kept staring straight ahead, until the cigarette between her fingers burned out.

“I suppose life takes weird turns.” Her voice was somber. “Shit happens, sometimes earlier than we think, but it does, and we have to deal with it, one way or another.”

Nairobi nodded. She knew that the woman beside her held as many personal secrets as she held State ones.

“What do you suppose you’ll do once you get the money?” Florencia asked her and Nairobi shrugged.

“The usual, I think, fast cars and a big house.” Florencia looked at her like she didn’t believe a word of what she had just said. “No, that’s not it at all.”

Nairobi’s breath was shaken and Florencia nodded in understanding. “We all have our secrets, believe me or not.”

“What about you, then?” Nairobi asked her. “Anyone you’re looking forward to seeing?”

And this time, when Florencia chuckled, it wasn’t amused at all.

“No. No one worthy, at least.”

“No family?”

Florencia gave her a sidelong glance. “No, no family.”

Nairobi nodded and took a more teasing tone, their conversation getting too dark too quick. “No hot boyfriends, then?”

At that, Florencia laughed and took a big gulp of 43. “Not really my thing, you see, I’ll leave them all to Helsinki.”

Nairobi chuckled and took a drag of her cigarette. “Girlfriend, then?”

“Like I said,” The green-eyed woman repeated. “No one worth seeing.”

They fell silent once more, the only sounds to be heard were the crickets and Moscow’s snoring down the hall.

“I think that you could.” Nairobi decided.

“Mhm? Could do what?” She asked, her voice quite confused.

“Rule over the entire world if you managed to cause the fall of the system.” And Florencia laughed, her entire face lighting up under the pale moonlight.

Nairobi couldn’t stop herself, she leaned forward, they were so close, after all. She could smell the other’s fancy perfume mixed with alcohol and cigarettes. As soon as their lips touched, though, Nairobi wished the ground would open and swallow her whole.

“I’m sorry-” She started but by then, Florencia had threaded her fingers through her hair and was pulling her forward so their lips could meet once more.

She tasted like expensive cigarettes and spanish liquor and Nairobi was intoxicated. When they parted, Florencia looked at her, her green eyes sparkling, unguarded for the first time since they met, three months ago. They didn’t speak, just stared at one another, eventually parting and topping their glasses once again.

That time, when they shared cigarettes, they didn’t talk, it wasn’t necessary, but the new knowledge, the new formed companionship and, honestly something more, it was there, growing strong with each swirl of smoke that rose in the air.

They watched the sunrise and the Professor didn’t even bothered saying anything when they wandered into the classroom with bags under their eyes.


End file.
